O hurry where by water among the trees

The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,

When they have but looked upon their images—

Would none had ever loved but you and I!

Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed

Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,

When the sun looked out of his golden hood?—

O that none ever loved but you and I!

O hurry to the ragged wood, for there

I will drive all those lovers out and cry—

O my share of the world, O yellow hair!

No one has ever loved but you and I.